Drunk But Honest
by Bea Ryan
Summary: Charlie, Jason, and Connor have stumbled home from the bar.


Miles shot awake as the rumbling cords of the out of tune piano shook the house. He'd never expected to hear that song again, but here it was, jerking him from his sleep and rattling his nerves.

Rachel sat up in bed to him, her face white with terror, a stark contrast to Miles' angry flush. "Is that the Monroe national anthem?"

"I'll got shut them up," he said. He pulled on his pants and made his way into the hall where Bass was already waiting, eavesdropping through the closed living room door.

"What the hell is going on?" Miles whispered to him.

"Connor and Charlie are back from the bar," he answered. "They brought someone with them. Someone who knows how to play the national anthem." Bass smiled as the final notes of the song faded away.

"That's the Monroe Republic anthem?" Connor asked with dismay in his voice. "It kind of sucks."

"Nah, son," came the slurred reply. "This out of tune piano sucks. That song is awesome. What else do you want to hear?"

"I want to hear how you know how to play piano," Charlie answered. Her own voice was thick and laced with amusement. She wasn't as drunk as the guest, but she wasn't sober either.

"You never met my mom, but Mrs. Julia Dayton Neville had *ideas* about how the world worked. I learned to play. I also always know which fork to use."

"Jason?" Miles whispered to Bass. They were still hidden by the door, the young drunks in the living room unaware of their presence in the hallway.

"Must be," Bass answered.

"You use the clean fork," Charlie answered.

"Shows how many Presidential Balls you've been to," Jason teased back.

Connor jumped in with an edge in his voice. "And how many have you been to?"

"A lot. Way too many. When they were trying to convince everyone Philly was a real capital and not just a place to store some crap, they had a lot of parties. I was too young to travel with a unit, and I knew how to play piano, so I went to a lot of balls. They usually remembered to feed me."

"You're lying," Connor said.

Jason rolled his eyes and began to play. "This song is called 'Jump' and the dance to it involves a lot of jumping. It's what we were playing when Nora puked all over Miles in the middle of the dance floor."

"Are you kidding me?" Charlie asked. "How come I never heard this story?"

"She took off for good pretty soon after that. There were rumors she was pregnant. It seemed kind of personal. If she had wanted to tell you, she could have."

"But now, now when you're trying to show off, you're just spilling everything?" Connor challenged.

"Now I'm drunk, and I'm a chatty drunk. It's why I don't drink. Also, I liked Nora and I don't like Miles. Her secrets, I kept while she was alive. But now, well, if Miles knocked her up and threw her out then those are the facts, and he can suck it."

"She said the baby she lost was someone elses," Charlie said. "I don't think she had a living child."

Quiet descended on them as Charlie remembered her lost friend. Jason's hands moved back to the keys, and a soft classical piece filled the room. When he finished Charlie asked, "What was that one?"

"That was the song that was playing when Monroe was banging Strausser's wife in the coat closet. She was not a quiet woman, and when it ended we kicked it up to something a lot louder. And faster. He was thumping her against something and their rhythm sort of set the rhythm for the band. Gotta do what you can to help your president out, right?"

"You're lying," Connor said.

"No man, it's true. Your dad's a slut. Never met a girl that belonged to someone else that he didn't want."

"Jason!" Charlie gasped as she tried to fight off a smile. She'd heard the story of Connor's conception. All her sympathy went to Miles on that one.

"You're just jealous because I slept with Charlie!" Connor spat.

"Banging a girl with battle fatigue exactly once just makes you a predator and an asshole," Jason answered.

Out in the hall Bass whispered to Miles, "Do we go in?"

"Your kid slept with Charlie?" Miles asked.

Bass shrugged in reply.

Miles said, "I think we let Jason put him through the floor."

"I dunno. Connor's pretty good."

"Jason has over a decade in the militia."

"Yeah, but he's Tom's son. Connor is mine. Connnor will wipe the floor with him."

"And if you're wrong?" Miles asked.

"Then I'll wipe the floor with Jason," Bass replied.

Connor shoved his way through the door, pressing both Miles and Bass back against the wall as he escaped the living room. "Screw them," he muttered as he headed to his room.

Bass and Miles watched him go before turning back to peek through the crack in the now partially open door. Charlie straddled Jason's legs as he sat on the piano bench.

"So you really wouldn't sleep with me, even if I asked you to?" she said as she stared into his eyes.

He closed his eyes and leaned back, away from her. "Don't ask me to, Charlie. I'm only human. A drunk human. Knowing I shouldn't isn't the same as not wanting to. Besides, I'm drunk. Wouldn't be my best performance anyway."

"What about when you're sober?" she asked.

"When I'm sober you make my soul ache. Part of me wants to take you away from all of this, all the danger and the craziness, and part of me wants to beg you to help me with a prison break."

"Why do you want my help with a prison break?" she asked.

"It's the right thing to do. It needs doing, and you like doing the right thing. At least you used to. Also, you look hot with a gun. I don't trust you, but you're my least bad option."

"I don't trust you either," she said.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't. Loving you isn't the same as being on Miles' side just because he said it's the best side ever."

"Hey!"

Even drunk he knew he'd gone go far and feinted to change the subject. "You want to talk about a prison break?"

"Yeah," she said without enthusiasm.

He launched into his pitch. He knew he couldn't have her, not yet, but maybe he could have her help. "Monroe conscripted and branded everyone. The Patriots are using the brands to sort people loyal to the old government.."

He grabbed a pen and began sketching a map on a sheet of paper. One day he hoped they could work it out everything between them: their conflicted families, their different view of 'the right thing to do,' and the value they each placed on their own lives. For now they would have to settle for trying to make the lives of strangers better.


End file.
